Mary studied her hair in the bathroom mirror. It looked horrible. Why did it have to choose tonight to act up? Aggravated, she stuck out her bottom lip and blew a breath upwards. Her bangs lifted from her forehead in one piece. She picked up the curling iron, wound a lock of hair around the barrel, and released the clamp. Applying the hairspray, she pulled back slowly on the iron. She analyzed her work, slowly shook her head, and applied more hair spray. The sticky fruity smell of the spray filled the tiny room. If she had more time, she'd jump in the shower and start over.

The doorbell rang.

Mary shouted, "Dad, can you get that?"

The springs on his recliner protested louder than him as he stood up and made his way to the door to let in her date. Their voices traveled down the narrow hallway to the bathroom.

"Hi, Mr. Kowalski. My name is Thomas Morgan. Nice to meet you, sir."

"Yeah. Hi." The screen door slammed shut.

The springs groaned again as her dad settled back into his seat. He lit a fresh cigarette. She hated the smell of his nicotine. It was trapped in every surface of the house, no matter how hard she cleaned.

Giving up on her hair, Mary set the hairspray can on the counter and pulled at her flowery pink blouse. It settled around her push-up bra, which did little for her small bosom. She turned around and stuck her butt out, giving herself a half-smirk in the mirror. Her round backside was her best feature though it didn't make up for her bad hair, big feet, and tiny boobs. Facing the mirror, she wanted to apply more mascara but didn't want to leave Tom alone with her father any longer than necessary.

What did he see in her? Certainly not what she saw. She assumed it was a joke when Tom Morgan, the handsome football player, asked her out yesterday. It made no sense. She was a nobody— occupying the lowest rung of the social ladder in high school. She wasn't part of any teams or clubs, and her only friend, Sharon, preferred studying over parties.

From the living room, Tom asked, "Has Chuck Norris kicked anybody in the head yet, sir?"

"The bad guy is on the floor, so I probably missed it when I let you in."

"Sorry about that."

Mary swore under her breath. Hurriedly grabbing her toothbrush, she brushed her teeth, being extra careful not to get any paste on her favorite blouse. She spit, rinsed, and quickly applied lip gloss. She gave herself one more look in the mirror. Her hair still looked horrible. Oh well, it was what it was. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and said a quick prayer, before exiting the bathroom. Beads of perspiration grew in her armpits even though she'd just applied deodorant.

She found her dad in his chair, pretending to ignore Tom while watching Walker, Texas Ranger. Her date examined the portraits on the far wall. They showed Mary's family in happier times, back when her mom was still alive. Tom stood in front of the picture from her first communion; the one she hated— and her dad loved. The girl in the picture looked like a tiny cherub in her white dress, gloved hands folded in her lap, head tilted to the side to show off the dimple in her left cheek. If he could have, her dad would've frozen her at that age. His obedient little angel.

Mary cleared her throat.

Tom turned around; a huge smile filled his face. "Wow. You look great."

"Thanks, so do you."

Unlike Tom, Mary wasn't lying. However, his compliment did sound genuine, which fit with what she'd heard about him. Tom was a good guy. Not a jerk who slept with any girl who'd let him. She had a good feeling about this smart, tall boy dressed nicely in a red polo shirt and jean shorts.

"I love the pictures."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't. There's too many of them."

The room held over twenty portraits; the frames touched one another. Frowning from his chair, Mr. Kowalski didn't look like the young man in the pictures either. The Mr. Kowalski sitting in the easy chair, had a receding hairline with more salt than pepper. The smooth face was now etched with frown lines and crow's feet, while his waistline had grown by several inches from the large quantities of beer he consumed nightly. He exhaled a plume of cigarette smoke. It hit the ceiling fan, sending it around the room like a skunk's spray.

Tom brought a hand to his face to wave away the smoke.

Mary glared at her father in embarrassment. "Dad!"

"Where's my dinner?" he asked, not looking up from the television.

"On the stove, I made you beef stew."

He released the footrest on his recliner. "Get me another beer when you fix my plate."

She opened her mouth and then closed it. His silverback gorilla display was super embarrassing, but she knew he could make it worse. A lot worse. Stomping into the kitchen, she took a plate from the cupboard, filled it with stew, and added a fork from the drawer. With her free hand, she grabbed a cold beer from the fridge. She thought of getting him a napkin too but knew he'd use his shirt sleeve. She delivered the meal to his majesty with a pinched smile on her face.

Without a thanks, he asked, "What are you two doing tonight?"

Tom stepped forward. "I thought we'd go play some putt-putt golf, sir, and maybe afterwards grab an ice cream cone."

He harrumphed, looking up at Tom through one squinted eye. "All right. I guess that works, but have her home by eleven, or you won't see my daughter again. You can take that one to the bank, buddy-boy."

"Dad, we talked about midnight. It's not a school night. Please!"

He shifted his focus back to the television. "I can make it ten o'clock."

"Fine. Eleven." She nudged Tom towards the door.

"What, no kiss?"

Slipping on her mask of obedience, she trudged back to his throne. He removed the fork from his mouth. Still chewing, he turned his head, and she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. He grinned and lit a new cigarette as she stomped out of the house. Tom ran to catch up.

"Eleven!"Mr. Kowalski shouted after them.